


Family is Exposed, Family is Vulnerable

by karmicpunishment



Series: Tomathy Isn't It Fics [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Child Neglect, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, IRL Fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Physical Violence (minor), TommyInnit-centric, parental neglect, swearing (its tommy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28210017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karmicpunishment/pseuds/karmicpunishment
Summary: Life hasn't been too kind to Tommy lately. Good thing, he has an online big brother looking out for him.Gift for L from The Writer's Block Discord, I hope you like it!!
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Tomathy Isn't It Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126091
Comments: 21
Kudos: 780
Collections: the writer's block's Secret Santa





	Family is Exposed, Family is Vulnerable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [like_theletter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_theletter/gifts).



“Jesus Christ that kid’s a fucking freak.”

  
“He’s so annoying, I don’t know how anyone can stand him.”

“He thinks because some people watch him online, people actually like him?”

“His only friends are online, lord knows no one can stand him in real life.” 

“He must bring in a lot of views, otherwise I can’t think about why’d they put up with him.”

The words bounce back and forth in Tommy's mind. He wonders if they didn’t know he could hear every word they said about him or if they did and they just didn’t care. He thinks it's probably the latter. They never cared about what he overheard. More often than not they wanted him to hear the things they said about him. Even more often they spoke them to his face, spitting the words with vitriol and malice. Just earlier today they’d cornered him in the bathroom and shoved him in a stall door, cornering him and critiquing everything they didn’t like about him. Which was basically everything. His back was still sore from being slammed into the metal door. It had joined the rest of his bruises on his body in the Tommyinnit Hall of Pain. It seemed the second something healed, those assholes could sense it, and a second later were there to shove him down or kick him or whatever they decided to do that day. At the beginning he liked to fight back, splitting his knuckles on cheekbones and bruising bodies other than his own, but that ended quickly. It seemed his parents didn’t care what his reason was for fighting, only about the act itself. And split knuckles were harder to hide on stream then a bruised torso. 

Speaking of streams, he had a recording session later tonight. They were planning on playing a new mod in minecraft with the rest of the SBI (Tommy ignored the voice in his mind that told him not to include himself in that group), Tubbo and Niki. This recording session had been the only thing keeping him in check this whole week, a comfort during a shitty week. But as the bus neared home, and the session loomed closer, Tommy couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread lurking overhead. Today had been the worst, he’d failed a test, forgotten an important homework assignment at home, been paired with the stoner kid in chemistry and had to do an entire experiment by himself, and of course the aforementioned bathroom incident. All Tommy wanted to do was go home and fade into oblivion. Or sleep. Whichever was easier. His parents were away again and had forgotten to leave groceries, so it was another night of shitty microwave ramen for dinner (if he even ate at all) and his stomach turned at the thought, the nausea rooted there at the thought of tonight's recording session growing even more at the idea of food. The thought of sitting at the kitchen table alone, listening to the whir of the microwave as it spins and spins and spins turned his stomach. The house was so quiet and the hardest spots to sit in were the ones that were supposed to be for family. Despite free reign of the house, he’d spent more time this week in his room than he ever did when his parents were home. He missed his parents. He wondered if they missed him too. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

The discord logo taunted Tommy from his computer screen, as his _friends_ fellow streamers joined him online. The familiar icons of Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Tubbo and Niki had popped up on the sidebar, smiling out at him. Wilbur, Niki and Philza had already joined the call, Tubbo and Techno giving a five minute warning. Tommy had yet to send a message or join the call, instead sitting in his chair with his knees to his chest, hoping the pressure would calm the swelling nausea in his chest. It didn’t. Internally he thanked whatever deity might be up there that they hadn’t scheduled a face cam session tonight. Tommy didn’t think he could handle the effort of putting a too big smile on his face, not to mention the noticeable bags under his eyes that had taken up residence since his parents had been away. Every shadow and noise in the empty house sent shivers down his spine and kept his mind racing. He didn’t even want to think about trying to sleep tonight with his freshly bruised back. It’d probably be another sleepless night spent curled up with his headphones trying to block out the world and the shadows on the wall. Startled out of his musing by the distinct discord beep of a message, Tommy turned to blink blearily at his screen. A notification of a DM from Wilbur taunted him from the corner of his screen. Fuck. He debated not clicking it, on ignoring it, on turning off his computer and letting himself waste away without a word. But there was that little voice in the back of his mind (it sounded suspiciously like the man who’s message he wanted to ignore) telling him, “You know you can’t do that Tommy. Don’t be a little shit.” And Tommy clicked the message. 

“Tommy, did you forget we’re recording today? Did you fall asleep after school again?” was what greeted him in Wilbur's message. Tommy put his fingers over the keyboard, brain scrambling for a response. What should he say? ‘Sorry, I was busy trying not to throw up at the thought of interaction? I was sitting in my bedroom with the lights off trying not to cry? I’m starving but nauseous and lonely but hating the idea of talking to another person and tired but would rather die than dream again?’ His internal ramblings cut off by the sound of the filter keys pop up asking him if he wanted to turn them on, his finger pressed on the shift key for too long. Another message from Wilbur popped up.

“Tommy are you okay? I can see you’ve been typing for awhile. Is something wrong? You don’t need to worry about the recording session if it is, everyone will understand.” Tommy felt stuck in place, his eyes glued to the message on the screen as his breath froze in his chest, his throat swollen around anything he could think to get out. Understand? Why would they understand? There wasn’t anything to even understand. Tommy was just being a whiny piece of shit like the kids at school said. Complaining about recording a video for his youtube channel with some of his favorite people in the world? Pathetic. Crying over being home alone for the past week? Selfish. Whining about being tired, being sore, being nauseous, being hungry, be whatever he is? Disgusting. That's what he is. Disgusting, ungrateful, terrible. That's what he is, and everyone knows it. His parents know, the kids at school too, the comment section on his channel had long since figured it out. So why was Wilbur concerned? Why did Wilbur seem to care? He was probably just worried about not getting enough content for a video or a new tweet or something. Nothing to do with Tommy himself. Certainly not. A third message popped up, simple in its words but the feelings Tommy felt when he saw it were anything but. 

_“Call me”_

Shit. Wilbur knew he was online, knew he was reading this, knew he had seen the message. He couldn’t ignore it or feign obliviousness. He had to answer. He could do it. It was just Wilbur, nothing to be afraid of. Feeling like he’d swallowed the ocean during a storm, Tommy sighed and clicked the accept call button. 

“Tommy? You there?” Wilbur's voice crackled into his headphones. His voice was softer than usual, warm and real and there. He didn’t sound mad, to Tommy's surprise, instead a note of concern to be heard. Tommy opened his mouth to speak but nothing but a strangled breath came out, blowing harshly against his microphone. He could hear Wilbur breath in on the other end of the line, a tiny intake of breath in surprise. “Tommy, are you okay? Are you hurt?” The concern was back in his voice, thicker than before, now completely undeniable. The care in his voice shot straight to Tommy's heart, tears springing to his eyes. Once again he couldn’t speak, his throat thick with a sudden onslaught of emotion. He tried to stifle down his emotions, swallowing the sob in his throat and sniffling before pasting a smile on his face in preparation of his upcoming act. 

“Of course I’m okay Big Man! In fact I’m more than okay, I’m amazing, how could I not be? I’m Tommy fucking Innit!” He laughed out loud, grating and fake even to his own ears. Jesus Christ he was annoying. Normally a response like that would prompt a scoff or a chuckle from the other man but only slight static sound from Wilbur following his exclamation. The simulacra of a smile slid from his face as the silence crawled on, buzzing in his ears, until broken by a sigh from the other end of the line. 

“Don’t do that Tommy. Please.”, Wilbur spoke, voice heavy with something Tommy couldn’t identify. 

“Do what? I’m not doing anything Wilbur, what are you on about bitch?” chuckled Tommy a twinge of nerves coming through, “If you mean being awesome, I don’t think I can stop that, it's just a part of me. I mean-”

“Stop Tommy.” The words halted in his throat at the sudden strict command from the older man. “Stop lying to me. Stop acting like you're okay when you're not. I know you Tommy and even if i didn’t I’d be stupid not to tell you were crying before I called.” Wilbur's voice had softened from the brief coldness earlier but the blow that Tommy felt from his words was not soft in the slightest. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, his breath forced out of him. “You don’t need to act in front of me Toms. I know we mostly talk on stream, I know that most of what we do is bits and jokes, but not right now. Right now it's just me and you. You don’t need to put on a mask, to act like something you're not. There’s no one here to judge you.” Except you, Tommy couldn’t help but think. And I care about your judgement. “I care about you Toms, and that means I want you to tell me the truth. Whatever it is, whatever you need to say, I’m listening and I will listen no matter what you tell me. I know you’re a tough kid, but you don’t always have to be. It's okay to ask for help if you need it, especially from those who love you.” Tommy felt the tears well up once again and for the first time in who knows how long, didn’t hold them back. He let out one so then another and another, uncurling himself with each heave and cry. Hot tears poured out of his eyes, the flood gates opened at the raw concern in Wilbur's voice. His shoulders jerked from the force and his breaths shuddered as he cried. He could hear Wilbur over the line, let out a soft _oh_ when he started crying, near drowned out by the harsh sobs tearing out of him. In the back of his mind he could hear Wilbur moving around, but spared little thought for the why until a soft strum of guitar filled his ears. Wilbur's voice, gentle and kind and soothing, flooded his ears. He sang quietly as Tommy cried. He couldn’t register the words over blood rushing in his ears, only the rhythmic strumming of the guitar and the low register of Wilbur's song. Tommy couldn’t tell you how long he sat there, sobbing like a baby and being soothed like one with a gentle lullaby being sung. He just cried and cried and cried until he couldn’t anymore. He blubbered nonsense words over the line, mutterings of missing parents and cruel kids and empty fridges and loud brains, Wilbur stopping songs to say soothing words. Tears ran until he was empty of them, fully rung out of anything to get out. He felt disgusting, all dried tears and snot on his face, but also lighter. He felt like a freed Atlas, the world of his shoulders swept away from the flood he’d just unleashed. As his sniffles quieted, so did Wilbur's singing. He kept on strumming his guitar, words fading to a hum until it was just strings played alone. Tommy should have felt embarrassed, ashamed, or a thousand other awful things. He’d acted like a baby in front of someone he respected, of an adult who didn’t have to deal with him. He should be sorry, but all he could feel was safe. Safe in the now quiet discord call, only breathing coming across, no words needed. It should have felt stifling, the silence permeating but it wasn’t. The music had ended, the guitar stowed away, but sitting with his _~~coworker friend~~ _brother on the call, he never felt better.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone, hope you enjoyed the story!! This was my first time writing from a Tommy pov, hope i did a good job haha
> 
> join the writer's block discord here:  
> https://discord.gg/ayu9zRCRvZ


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